Of Eggnog And Festive Flirting
by E Salvatore
Summary: Childhood friends Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop only meet once a year – at his father's Christmas party. And every year, they find themselves waking up next to each other on Christmas morning.
1. Chapter 1

**OF EGGNOG AND FESTIVE FLIRTING**

**Summary : Childhood friends Olivia Dunham and Peter Bishop only meet once a year – at his father's Christmas party. And every year, they find themselves waking up next to each other on Christmas morning. **

**Disclaimer : So, Santa totally exists and he got my letter and got me the rights to Fringe. Totally. Also, have you met my friend Sarcasm?**

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><p><strong>Of Eggnog And Festive Flirting<strong>

**One : I'll Be Home For Christmas**

* * *

><p>Every year.<p>

Every single year, Walter Bishop, a man she's known for as long as she can remember and now works with, throws his annual Christmas party at the Bishop residence, a home she practically grew up in.

Every single year, she attends because it's the Bishops, her surrogate family, the family she's known forever, and really, the only family she has left.

Every single year, Peter Bishop – a big part of her childhood and adolescence – comes home and they talk and reminisce and have too much eggnog only to wake up next to each other after the highlight of her year, and then go their separate ways until the next Christmas.

Every year this happens.

And so there's no way she's going to let a little snow get in her way this year.

* * *

><p>Okay, so it's a lot of snow.<p>

A whole lot of snow and Walter's place isn't exactly five minutes away from her own. She's probably going to be late but then again, everyone knows that the first hour of the party is really just spent getting the guests drinks and loosening them up so that everyone's old friends by the time the second hour rolls around.

Besides, Peter is usually two hours late.

She groans out loud in the privacy of her car, frustrated with her own seemingly – and suddenly – one-track mind. _Peter, Peter, Peter_. She needs to take her mind off him. Maybe this year it won't happen. Maybe this year he'll bring someone home with him. Maybe this year he won't even be there.

All three possibilities would put a serious damper on her holidays.

But the message he'd left her three days ago remains stuck in her mind on an endless loop: _"Hey, 'Livia,"_, he'd started with that infuriating nickname that she refuses to accept, even if some small part of her has come to expect it from him and feels just a little bit more special when he calls her that. _"It's almost Christmas – but you probably knew that already. I'm coming home for the party, as usual. Mom would kill me if I missed it." _And then he chuckles, that same pattern of laughter she's known her entire life; the one that warms her and brings back memories of a secret tulip field, their home away from home when she'd gotten tired of practicing her abilities – long after the trials had ended, Walter had continued to keep tabs on her under the pretense of monitoring her 'extraordinary talent'. The older man had really just used that as an excuse to keep Olivia safe from her abusive step-father and submissive mother.

"_Anyway, I guess I just wanted to let you know that I'll be there. And I wanted to know if you will be, too, even though you're always there, but just in case, you know? Never know when the FBI's gonna whisk you and Walter-"- _always Walter, never Dad because for some reason, that close bond they'd once had had been broken, a long time ago, and though father and son had worked out their differences, the family ties had never been the same again – _"away on a super-secret, need-to-know-only, look-at-me-I-have-classified-information," _She'd laughed then, because he would always sulk whenever he heard of a particularly interesting case only to be fed with the same answer, over and over: classified, "_case. So… I'll see you in a few days – I hope."_

He had started rambling and that had amused her after a long day of paperwork, so the three words, along with her nickname, that he'd spoken very softly at the end, right before hanging up, had surprised her.

"_I miss you, 'Livia."_

The traffic light turns green and Olivia goes on with her slow drive, determined to make it to the Bishops' because truth be told, she misses Peter, too.

And then she wants to hit herself because she is being _such _a girl.

* * *

><p>"Olivia!"<p>

Walter has a way of squealing her name and turning it into two separate words, like a toddler reunited with his mother after a particularly long and trying hour, and it makes her feel loved and wanted and accepted every single time – every morning she drops by his lab.

"Walter," She smiles, letting him hug her – only the Bishops could ever get away with that because over the years, Olivia has learned to shrink away from any human contact except for the safe, warm embraces of this family. Elizabeth stands nearby, waiting for her turn. She steps up the minute Walter lets go of Olivia and replaces his arms with hers, holding the woman she considers a daughter close.

"You never come by anymore, Olivia." She playfully chides in her accent. "It's been weeks of lunch with that one," She shoots Walter a look, "gobbling up my culinary masterpieces. It's bad enough Peter's barely around – are you going to do the same to your aunt Elizabeth?" As a child, Olivia had loved Elizabeth's accent – the way her 't's and 'r's were always very pronounced; the way she pronounced her son's name.

"Sorry," Olivia shrugs. "Work's been… crazy."

"And still confidential, I see," Elizabeth rolls her eyes, though she's gotten over the whole hush-hush thing now, unlike a certain younger Bishop. "Come along now," She takes hold of Olivia's hand. "I've made some brilliant appetizers and there should be some unspiked eggnog around here."

"Some unspiked eggnog would be great," Olivia smiles, basking in the warmth that only the Bishops – her real family – can provide her.

This is her home.

* * *

><p>"Astro!"<p>

Olivia turns around quickly as Walter's booming voice rings out, sighing in relief when she spots her junior agent, Astrid Farnsworth, walking in to receive a warm greeting from Walter. She quickly excuses herself from the mad scientist she's been listening to for the last five minutes and heads straight for Astrid.

"There _is _a God," She groans as Astrid playfully links their arms, in search of a drink.

"Miss me that much?"

"I've been stuck with some guy who has a deep love towards math. So, yes, Astrid, I missed you a lot." She pauses for a moment. "And your sense of humor." She adds honestly.

"I'm flattered," Astrid smirks as Elizabeth walks up to them, handing Astrid her safe, un-Walter-fied drink. The younger duo smile at the maternal Bishop as Astrid thanks her. Elizabeth is about to walk away when she turns around.

"Oh, Olivia," She speaks up with a glint in her eyes. "Peter called. He should be here soon and can't wait to see you."

"Thanks, Elizabeth." Olivia smiles tightly as a slow blush creeps up while Astrid smirks. Elizabeth nods and walks away.

"He just did that for fun," Olivia mutters to her junior agent who has been trying _forever _to convince Olivia that Peter is hopelessly in love with her, and vice versa.

"Suuure," Astrid says slowly, dragging out the word in an act of disbelief. "Peter Bishop a.k.a Total Hottie a.k.a your annual one-night-stand," Olivia still hates that Astrid had somehow managed to pry that bit of information out of her, "called his mom just to tell her that he can't wait to see his good friend, potentially setting himself up for embarrassment, just because he wanted to get at you." Sarcasm drips out of each word and Olivia tries not to scowl.

"You can't go around just saying that, Astrid." She hisses. "Peter and I have known each other forever and I would hate for things to get awkward just because someone, like maybe, say, his father, the man we work with every day, overheard you calling him my- my-"

"Annual one-night-stand." Astrid supplies helpfully. "And yes, that would be _so _awkward because sex between two childhood friends isn't, at all."

"Someday, you and Walter are going to find your calling and start a matchmaking agency." Olivia predicts, giving up on trying to convince Astrid that Peter has no romantic feelings for her whatsoever. Astrid smiles impishly and shrugs.

Let the girl have her fun and dreams and fantasies about Peter and Olivia. As long as she knows the truth, and he knows the truth, they'll be fine.

But it won't be fine, because even she's beginning to doubt the truth.

* * *

><p>It's been an hour since Peter's call to his mother – not that Olivia is keeping track and insanely impatient on the inside. No, she is having fun and not moping around, waiting for him. No, no, no. Olivia Dunham is independent.<p>

But wanting to see her best friend doesn't make her dependent on him. She merely misses the boy she spent most of her childhood and adolescence with; that's all.

Despite her best efforts to convince herself, she finds herself glancing at the grand, ornate grandfather clock way too often and Astrid keeps sending her knowing smirks whenever she realizes that Olivia has checked out of their conversation.

"It's been an hour," Astrid remarks innocently after Olivia checks the time for the seventh time. "Impatient much?" Olivia forces out a smile.

"Not at all – maybe he's snowed in or something." It's a dark thought – she really, _really _wants to see Peter, and him getting snowed in would be typical bad luck, the kind that's prone to shadowing her.

"Yeah, right," Astrid snorts delicately. "As if some snow would stop him from getting to you tonight."

"Astrid!" The blonde agent gasps, mildly scandalized.

She's about to add to that single remark when two arms wrap around her waist from behind. Instinct tells her to defend herself and her body automatically prepares for a fight, but the smug smile on Astrid's face and the familiar scent invading her senses get her to back down and she tries to turn around to face the one she's been waiting for all evening – all year, actually.

But his hold on her is secure and leaves no space for squirming, and so she gives up and settles for talking this out. "Peter," She acknowledges sharply, unsure if she can trust her voice to be level and calm. Astrid gives her a quick wink before gliding away, her subtle gift of privacy.

She waits for him to release her and end this game, or maybe speak up, but all she can hear is his steady breathing as he moves closer to her, violating her personal space. But then again, there's never been any space between them.

He moves closer still as his breaths become more pronounced, and she can feel her own breath hitch, a natural bodily response to their close proximity. There's music playing – one of Walter's old records – and he sways them gently to the classic holiday music, his grip loosening but only slightly.

Finally, he speaks, and a cold tremor runs down the length of her spine despite her best efforts not to show him just how much he gets under her skin.

"We really need to stop meeting like this, sweetheart."

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><p><strong>And so ends the first chapter of this Christmas special. Chapter title is – you guessed it: the titular line of <strong>_**I'll Be Home For Christmas**_**. Don't forget to stay tuned for the following chapters – there should be two more. I'll be working on those soon so keep that in mind when you read this story: it's been written without any reader's input or feedback – all pre-written and finished with a big, red ribbon for you guys.**

**Let's do a gift exchange – Fringe Christmas Special for you, reviews for me! How does that sound? For more info on all the nicely wrapped-up Christmas Specials I have planned for you guys, don't forget to check out my homepage and Twitter!**

**Happy holidays, everyone!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**December 2011.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Of Eggnog And Festive Flirting**

**Two : Say, What's In This Drink?**

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><p>"<em>We really need to stop meeting like this, sweetheart."<em>

Damn him. Damn Peter Bishop to the deepest pits of Hell. He's met someone and he was only anxious to see her so that he could show off his new distraction and he's here now, messing with her and expecting her to be 'just friends' with him and for it all to be okay and that means no more annual one-night-stand, and damn it, the sex was really, really go-

"Once a year is definitely not enough of you."

Oh…

Oh.

_Oh_.

She moves to free herself again and this time he lets her, allowing her a first glimpse of him – and then she drinks him in, all Peter and charming and… festive. He's wearing a green sweater – a shade of green that actually looks good with his blue eyes – adorned with red detailing along the neckline and sleeves, and looks surprisingly… well, hot.

She quirks an eyebrow, an unspoken question in their silent Peter-Olivia language, the one they'd spent years perfecting and the one that, until this very day, only the two of them understand.

"Let's just say Walter was a little too determined to get this on me this year and actually mailed it over. And since the weather's crazy, I figured I'd just throw it on." He explains, shrugging as if it's no big deal. But they both know it is, to Walter.

"That might explain why he's pointing you out to everyone as his son."

"Actually, 'Livia," And there he goes again, pairing the nickname with a smirk because he knows it irks her (not anymore, ever since he left and she stayed to become an agent, but no way she's telling him that), "I'm pretty sure he's pointing both of us out, probably as a couple with some line about us being madly in love."

She blushes a deep, Christmas-appropriate shade of red and he grins, placing a light hand on the small of her back as he guides them to the kitchen in search of some edible food that his mother has surely stashed away.

Olivia moves slowly, just enjoying the familiar, warm imprint his hand leaves on her back as she puts more distance between them, leaning up against the wall as he hunts for sustenance. "Someone's hungry," She observes as Peter roots around the kitchen, knowing exactly where each and every single thing is, almost as if he lives here year-round.

It's only the two of them in the kitchen and he shoots her a teasing grin for just a moment before going back to the task at hand. "It was a long drive and I thought I'd get a bite before you decide to have your wicked way with me and hold me prisoner until tomorrow morning."

"Peter!" Olivia gasps, scanning for witnesses.

"Yes, sweetheart?" Really, Elizabeth is to blame for all of this; she's raised a son who's entirely too charming for his own – and Olivia's – good.

"You really shouldn't say stuff like that." She informs him, arms crossed and cheeks pale with no hint of rushing blood to them; finally, she's acting like the grown-up that she is.

"Because it makes you want me?" He questions from the depths of the pantry.

"No!" Peter quickly turns around and puts himself in her line of sight to shoot her a look of disbelief. "Okay, well, yeah," She shrugs it off. "But mainly because anyone could walk in and hear that!"

She thinks she might get a heart attack or something when the familiar clicks of heels echo across the wide kitchen.

"Hear what?" Elizabeth smiles warmly as she rescues her son from his current predicament and Olivia draws on every single bit of her self-control to keep herself from blushing.

"Oh, nothing. Just that Olivia's going to tie me up after this and have her way with me." He peeks out from around Elizabeth's back to wink at her and she glares, uncertain of what else she can say – certainly nothing because it would only make the situation worse, right?

"You children," Elizabeth smiles indulgently, slapping Peter's hand away from the unprepared food she's brought out for him. "I remember how everyone always thought you were together, and you'd work it to your advantage. Still playing the same game, I see."

Peter chuckles and Olivia's heart starts beating again, He looks at her with bright eyes as if to say, _see, nothing to worry about_.

_Screw you_, she mouths.

_Later_, he smirks.

Damn it, Peter Bishop is going to be the death of her.

* * *

><p>"Elizabeth makes the most amazing eggnogs." Olivia decides much later when she is sipping down her third or fourth; she isn't keeping count.<p>

"Wait until you try mine. Her family secret with a dash of mad Bishop genes. The perfect combination." He brags, shooting her that heart-stopping smile again.

"If by mad Bishop genes you mean pharmaceuticals – and home-grown ones – then no thanks." She says quickly, her eyes dancing across the room, taking in the strangers and a few familiar faces. Peter lets out a short laugh from his spot next to her and she wonders if she can sit any closer to him on this couch without drawing attention to their comfortable proximity– both Astrid and Walter have made sure to 'check up' on them numerous times this evening.

"It's… weird," Peter muses from his spot right next to her. "The way they're looking at us." He elaborates when he catches sight of her questioning look. "It's like they're waiting to see if we'll suddenly stop laughing, or look away from each other and act awkward."

"Maybe," Olivia offers. "Maybe it's because that's how two friends usually act after they…" She trails off, unsure of just what it is they're doing.

"After they sleep together?" Peter throws in boldly, his smug smile replaced by a concerned look when Olivia chokes on her drink.

"You-" She coughs out, trying to regain her composure. "You really need to stop talking like that." Peter nods seriously, as if he'd even consider listening to her.

"But?" He prompts.

"But…yeah," She concedes. "You're right. Most friendships usually become awkward when it's as… messed-up as ours."

"That's because we're not like 'most friends', 'Livia. And we've never really had the time to be awkward about this." Peter smiles as her grip on her drink lets up slightly. "I mean, we spend, probably, 48 hours or less together in a year. And most of those hours aren't exactly filled with conversation." He smirks, eyes bright with mirth.

"So the way I see it, we don't have time to be awkward."

"Huh," She nods slowly, taking it in. "You might be right, Bishop. Now that you bring it up, I barely see you – ever."

"I know. Which is why…" He pauses for added drama.

"Which is why…?"

"I might be moving back to Boston."

"Seriously?" She smiles brightly only to regain her usual, deep-in-thought look because if Peter moves back to Boston, then they'd have plenty of time to be awkward.

"What's wrong, 'Livia? I expected you to be smiling for a whole lot longer than two seconds about me coming back. Think about it – we'd do all that crazy stuff we always wanted to do but never had the chance to as kids." And then he pauses, as if something's just occurred to him. "Or are you worried that you won't be able to hide me from your boyfriend?"

"Maybe you're the one freaking out about a secret girlfriend." Olivia retorts. _Yes! She speaks! _A triumphant grin is kept on the inside as she maintains a serious front which, to her surprise, is matched by Peter.

"There is no girlfriend, Olivia," He admits with furrowed brows. "Hasn't been for a long time. I mean, all this time, you didn't think that I – did _you_? I mean, while we were… did you have a-?"

It's cute to watch him be the speechless, stammering one for once, but she quickly rids him of his doubts. "Nope. Never. There hasn't been a boyfriend for a long time, either."

And then they sit in their comfortable Peter-and-Olivia silence, the kind that could never grow awkward, even when you turn and find the other openly staring at you and you feel like you should say something, but maybe not.

"Amazing." Peter mutters after a few beats, prompting Olivia to look up and observe him with a curious smile on her lips.

"What?"

"In some weird way, we've been like this monogamous couple for the past few years – a faithful monogamous couple who only meet once a year."

A monogamous couple – she hates to admit that she likes the sound of that more than she should. This is Peter, her best friend Peter, Peter who she, sure, occasionally sleeps with but still – Peter! The kid who used to play with toy airplanes and admired her stick figures and stole her cookies – that Peter!

Only he wasn't as practical as he is now, back then when he played with toy airplanes. And he certainly wasn't as charming as he is now, back then when he complimented her childish work. And he certainly, certainly wasn't as attractive as he is now, back then when he stole her cookies.

And those things he does to her… he certainly didn't know of back then.

He's waiting for some sort of response, she realizes when he turns to look at her. "Weird." She comments, echoing his earlier sentiments.

"So… what do you think – would you be able to handle me full-time, Agent Dunham?" He grins playfully, relaxing.

"Full-time?" If Peter thinks that being in the same area means free days together, then he's certainly in for a shock once he realizes just how much she works. She barely has a life, actually. Walter's Christmas party is the only socializing she willingly takes part in every year – other than that, it's all Bureau-related (and mandatory) affairs.

"Full-time." He nods. "I can't wait to see how it's like to work with you guys. Walter might be a pain but Astrid told me he has his moments… sometimes."

But she isn't listening; stopped listening after he mentioned, oh-so-casually, working with her. In the lab. Every day. Every hour.

"Peter," She interrupts with an indulgent smile. "I work in a confidential division – one that isn't supposed to exist. It's not as if you can just waltz in, drop in a copy of your impressive resume and get a job."

She's afraid she's hurt his feelings – or pride – when he remains silent for thirty full seconds. "I thought he told you," Peter mutters eventually and now both of them are confused. There's one thing about Olivia Dunham: she hates being confused.

"Who would've told me what, Peter?" She asks and it comes out harsher than she had intended for it to.

"Your boss, or something. Broyles. He called me up and offered me a civilian consultant post. Said you need a partner and it would really help if I would consider." Peter quickly fills her in, and though she remains quiet, she's surprised that Peter would give up his nomadic life and move back to Boston just because her superior told him that she needs help.

She has a million questions but only one can't wait. "And you took it? The post?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about. 'Livia, I don't want to invade your space or anything. I mean, you don't talk much about it but this secret division of yours is everything to you. I wouldn't want to just barge in. That's why I told Broyles I'll talk to him after the holidays – after I talked to you."

"So… would you like to have me around all the time, bugging the hell out of you, asking for a gun?" And then he smiles that boyish grin, the one that's convinced her to skip lunch, secretly dispose of vegetables and later on, lie to his parents about their whereabouts. And she's done for; not that she wasn't going to agree in the first place, but that grin of his just sealed their fates.

"I don't know, Bishop. That part about you bugging me for a gun sounds like it'll get on my nerves." She teases, and they both know she's going to say yes, sooner or later.

"I'll try to keep the bugging to a minimum. C'mon, 'Livia. You and me against the world, remember?" And then she softens, because she hasn't heard that in so long.

"The last time you said that-"

"-Walter had just enrolled you in my school after the accident. And no one would be friends with you because they'd heard of the fire. So you came to me, close to tears, and you admitted that you were scared of losing me. And then I said…"

"It's you and me against the world; always has been, always will be." Olivia finishes, caught up in ancient memories from a lifetime ago, back when her faith in Peter hadn't been a sure thing and children were the single most evil enemies she would ever face.

"Yes," She finally nods, her voice just loud enough for him to catch her words. "Yes, Peter, I would love for you to come work in Fringe."

* * *

><p>"I'm beat."<p>

He isn't, and she knows, but his mother doesn't.

"Alright, Peter. I've got your room all set up, so you go get some rest. Olivia, your old room is ready for you, darling. Just head on up anytime."

"Thanks, Elizabeth. I think I'll go chat with Astrid for a while first; make sure this one," She playfully nudges Peter, "gets to bed first and doesn't try to scare the crap out of me with some crazy prank."

"Ah," Elizabeth sighs fondly. "Those days seem like a million years ago." She bids her son goodnight and Peter does the same, throwing in a 'see you in your dreams, Dunham' over his shoulder as he climbs up the stairs. Olivia excuses herself to make small talk with Astrid for all of three minutes before she decides it should be alright for her to go up now.

"I'm exhausted, Astrid. See you after the holidays?" Astrid, unlike her, actually has family to go visit and friends to meet and all those normal holiday-errands to run.

"Exhausted." Astrid scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Go get some hotness, Liv. See you next year." Olivia briefly considers some sort of protest, but really, why even try when it comes to Astrid? So she smiles and nods and climbs up the same flight of stairs Peter had just ascended a few minutes earlier, working to keep her steps slow and heavy and tired – all the way until she gets into her room, the one next to Peter's.

Her overnight bag sits on her bed, the same one she had slept in night after night for years. The quilt Elizabeth had made for her is proudly displayed over a huge chest, full of tiny things she doesn't quite have the heart to throw out nor take away from the Bishop home. She quickly pulls out a sweatshirt and comfortable pants before heading into the bathroom and comes out a while later, clean-faced and ready to fidget in her bed for the next hour.

And then she falls asleep.

* * *

><p>"'Livia?"<p>

Olivia jumps up, crazy reflexes kicking in before her brain can process the fact that Peter's the one calling her name – her nickname.

"Peter," She sighs, her heartbeat slowly steadying. "I fell asleep." She admits, scooting aside to make room for him as he closes her door behind him.

"I figured. You look like crap, sweetheart."

"Way to make a girl feel better, Bishop. Is this what you say to every single female friend before you sleep with them?"

"Nope, just this one gorgeous but crazy stubborn best friend of mine who needs to realize that weekends should be free of paperwork."

Her heart skips a beat when he calls he gorgeous because Peter has always been the only one to throw out compliments at her just like that – sincerely. And then his words sink in.

"Hey!" She protests as he slips under the covers, propping himself up to face her. "I don't do paperwork on the weekends."

"Think again, 'Livia. You even brought your paperwork here! As if I'd let you out of my sight long enough for you to even complete a sentence."

"So what? You're gonna lock me in for the next twenty-four hours and go on and on, hoping that your parents won't a) walk in on us and b) miss us during Christmas dinner tomorrow?"

"Later today, actually, and that sounds like a great plan. But I don't know… I think four rounds is your limit."

Her eyes narrow as she shifts her frame, easing into a position that allows her to tackle him should she need to.

"Is that a dare, Bishop?"

"Totally, Dunham."

And then _he _pounces on _her_.

* * *

><p><strong>Just one more chapter left. I hope you can all use your smart, creative imaginations to fill in the blanks, because there will be no smut. Or lemons. Or sex-scenes. Just, you know, in case you didn't understand the first two terms; thought I'd make it clear. Chapter title from my favorite classic: <strong>_**Baby, It's Cold Outside**_**. As some of you might know, the next line is **_**'I wish I knew how to break this spell' **_**and it was a close call between these two lines for the title, though I finally settled on the first line simply because it fits in nicely with the first part of the chapter.**

**So… how about we do that gift exchange thing again? Chapter for review? Review for chapter? *squeal* It's almost Christmas!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**December 2011.**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Of Eggnog And Festive Flirting**

**Three : Merry Christmas, Olivia**

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><p>It's dark outside when she finally opens her eyes – but then again, it'll probably be dark for most, if not all, of today. She turns around to escape the outside world and… collides face-on with a warm, sleeping body.<p>

_Oh_, it's Peter. So it's Christmas. And so that's why she's sore all over, though she doesn't quite remember the details right now. Some sort of cocky comment of Peter's had started this, surely. It's always a trademark-cocky Peter Bishop comment that gets them into these situations.

The corners of her lips curl up in a contented smile as she slowly lifts up his hand that somehow, always ends up curled over her waist, as if even in his sleep he's drawing her in and keeping her there. Her bare feet haven't even hit the ground before Peter's hand reaches out for her and pulls her back in, the scruff on his face nuzzling her neck.

"Peter." She says, meaning for it to sound like a warning; it comes out as more of a moan than anything.

"It's Christmas." He mumbles into her hair, just barely awake, but enough to keep her stuck, it seems.

"It's Christmas." She replies quickly with a short smile. "Now will you please let me go?" It almost sounds like a whine, and Olivia cringes. She hasn't done that in… forever.

"So that you can run down and get all the bacon? I don't think so." And then another arm reaches over and now she's really trapped. "Besides, I did give you fair warning about keeping you in bed all day."

"Peter… I just wanted to use the bathroom. And between the two of us, you're the one who'll probably creep down and steal all of the bacon."

"Right." But his hold on her only tightens as he pulls her closer and his eyes remain shut.

"So can I go?"

"Hmm?"

"To the bathroom, Peter." She sighs impatiently before forcefully removing his hands. His eyes snap open, a frown on his face.

"I'll be back in five," Olivia throws over her shoulders.

"I'll just… be here, waiting."

And then he drifts off.

* * *

><p>Olivia is officially freaking out.<p>

She likes this – falling asleep with Peter holding her, waking up next to him and the teasing banter. She likes it too much and that's bad, because this isn't just another see-you-again-next-year thing; this is different. This year is different because after this, Peter will be around every single day. And how is she supposed to control herself then?

Cursing yet thanking Broyles for the millionth time, she studies her reflection in the mirror. There's evidence of her long night written all over her face, and the inevitable soreness lingers still. In an hour, she will walk downstairs and smile and talk to Walter and Elizabeth over breakfast, doing her best to pretend that she didn't sleep with their son last night.

And Peter will be right next to her, making that an impossible task as he tries to distract her with discreet movements under the table.

She quickly slips out of the bathroom, making minimal sound as she pads down the hallway back to her room. Slowly pushing open her door, Olivia glances around – but she doesn't have to, because everyone else is still asleep, even Walter who probably stayed up late last night, jumping with excitement.

With a soft sigh of relief, she closes the door and moves back under the covers, observing a sleeping Peter.

"Hey," He mumbles, apparently awake.

"Hey," She smiles because she can't help herself, but it quickly turns into a small frown because her predicament is never far from her thoughts. How is she supposed to work with Peter? And why is she making this into such a big deal?

Way to go, Olivia – give yourself a headache before breakfast on Christmas morning, because that's just the way it should be.

"Stop thinking," Peter instructs as his hand finds its spot on her waist. "You're giving me a headache."

"Great," She lets out a short laugh. "I'll keep it up."

"Always so mean to me." Peter says darkly and she struggles to remain still and not shiver under his touch as his fingers slip under her shirt and dance over her spine. "You really shouldn't do that, 'Livia. I'm never mean to you."

But he is – this thing that he's doing to her? It's mean. How does he expect her to be okay, working with him every day, trying to control herself? And that's the real issue, actually – she can't control herself, not around Peter. It's not as if she signed up for this messed up annual one-night-stand; it's the fact that Peter controls her, entirely, when it comes to this.

And that is just so screwed up because it's Peter, the kid she's known ever since she was a kid. They grew up together, in the same house, in the same family – isn't he supposed to be like a brother to her? A surrogate brother, part of her surrogate family.

Who the hell sleeps with their surrogate brother?

Oh, God, this is just so messed up.

"Olivia? I haven't been bad to you, have I?" Peter's concerned eyes find hers, breaking her out of her internal rambling. "I mean, I would never intentionally hurt you. You know that, don't you?"

Of course she does. So she smiles and moves in closer, and assures him that she does. Because he isn't doing this intentionally – there's no way Peter knows how she really feels, after all. But her smile is forced and Peter sees it, as he always does; sees through her fake smile and her casual posture and her need for proximity.

"'Livia," He studies her, brows furrowed in concentration. "What's wrong? Tell me." He pleads when she mutely shakes her head.

"It's nothing. Everything's fine." She holds out a hand and Peter accepts it without question, letting her pull both of them upright. "It's Christmas. Come on, time to go face your parents."

He lets her tow him out of bed and towards the door, but stops when they're about to get out and places his hands on her waist, holding her close. "I'm not dropping this." He scans her eyes, hoping to get some insight into her sudden change.

"Peter, please."

"Nope." He drops a light kiss on her lips. "We'll finish this later. Now come on, it's time for bacon."

* * *

><p>"Good morning, Olivia. Merry Christmas!" Walter greets her quietly, but his enthusiasm and wide smile can't be masked.<p>

"Merry Christmas, Walter; Elizabeth." She nods in acknowledgement, smiling brightly; all dark thoughts are temporarily banished to that crammed area in her brain, a little corner in a bright, airy room.

"Merry Christmas, Olive," Elizabeth smiles fondly. "Now sit down and have some of this food before Peter comes down and we all starve."

"I heard that, Mom!" Peter's loud comment is accompanied by hurried steps down the stairs, and it takes him all of thirty seconds to get seated next to her.

"G'morning, 'Livia," He says with exaggerated joy, as if he hasn't already had enough of her this morning; as if he hadn't pinned her against the bed last night to have his way with her. His knowing smirk tells her that he knows exactly what she's thinking of, and it annoys her to no end.

"Merry Christmas, Peter." She says calmly and then focuses on Elizabeth, who's flitting about, serving food and more food.

"Good morning to you too, Peter. Now be a dear and try not to finish all the bacon. It won't do you or your stomach any good."

"Yes, Mooom." He drags the word out and turns it into a childish protest, rolling his eyes to entertain Olivia. She lightly hits his shoulder.

"Your mother's right." Olivia says sternly as Elizabeth sits down in front of her, beaming at her daughter of sorts.

"Olivia has a good head on her shoulders. Lord knows it's about time someone around here listens to me."

Olivia blushes; being singled out is still something she'd rather avoid, even if it is in a positive light. Elizabeth smiles softly at her before encouraging everyone to dig in, making sure that everyone has enough to eat, like the mother hen that she is.

Breakfast is filled with old Christmas trivia courtesy of Walter, though Olivia highly doubts Santa Claus is an evil pervert. Peter's vehement disagreement starts a Bishop debate, and Elizabeth and Olivia just share a patient smile as they silently and fondly observe the Bishop men.

It's like the perfect family breakfast, only Olivia realizes that she doesn't want to be the patient sister and perfect daughter.

Oh, no. Olivia wants to be part of the Bishop family in a different way entirely.

* * *

><p>"We won't be out for long; your father just wants to take a walk, as usual."<p>

A maternal Elizabeth helps her husband bundle up to face the cold as they prepare to leave for their usual drive, the one Walter insists on taking every year. Peter leans against the doorway, arms crossed while Olivia stands two safe feet away from him, smiling slightly at the way Walter can't keep still.

"Come now, Elizabeth. Surely Peter and Olivia will not burn down the house in our absence. I'm sure they have better things to do with their privacy. Am I right, Olivia?" Walter smiles, and Olivia doesn't know if she should protest this or laugh because Walter has been playing matchmaker for as long as she can remember, and over the years, she's learned to just deal with it. But sometimes he still catches her off-guard with his comments.

"Walter, please." Peter chuckles. "I think someday you're going to scare her off."

Elizabeth laughs lightly and proceeds to drag Walter out, saying a quick goodbye to Peter and Olivia, sparing them from any more of Walter's matchmaking.

The minute Peter closes the door and shields them from prying eyes, Olivia considers jumping him – not just because she wants to, but also because she knows what's coming.

"Don't even think about it, 'Livia. I told you we're talking, and we're going to talk, no matter how good that sweater looks on you. Really, sweetheart? That neckline's a bit daring." He smirks, and Olivia looks down in a moment of self-conciousness which lasts just long enough for Peter to creep up and corner her.

"Come on," Peter holds out a hand, and she takes it. "Let's talk."

He leads her up the stairs and into his room, which hasn't changed ever since he left… for college, or whatever it is Peter was up to.

"Really, Peter." Olivia tries half-heartedly to change his mind. "I'm f-"

"Seriously, Olivia? You're going to tell me you're fine? You're going to just stand there and lie to my face?" He questions incredulously, and she can't help but look down – away from his eyes, hurt and upset and worried and just a little bit angry.

"I…" Lost, Olivia walks past Peter and sits down on his bed, leaning against the headboard. She looks up at him before scooting over and patting the space next to her – an invitation. He considers it for all of three seconds before he crosses the room and sits down next to her.

"I know something's wrong, Olivia. And I want to help. I always help, remember? What's the problem this time?"

And she hates that she can't control herself; hates that she blurts it out this way; hates that they're in this messed up situation in the first place.

And she hates that she just lets her head rest on his shoulder and sighs out her answer.

"You, Peter."

She can feel him stiffen up; can hear the sharp inhale and curses herself for her impulsive words. She's up in seconds, facing him and gently framing his face.

"I'm sorry, Peter. I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just – damn it, I don't know what I was thinking. I don't know what I'm thinking. What are we doing, Peter? It's not even sneaking around – this is worse." To her absolute horror, the words in her mind just come tumbling out and it feels so good to finally be able to talk openly to Peter like this, the way they always did, that she doesn't even try to stop herself; she just lets it all out.

"It's just crazy, and reckless, and stupid. We're friends, Peter – best friends. I've known you forever and trusted you my entire life, and yes, I love you – but I don't know how that works. Do I love you because you're my friend? Do I love you because I always have? Is it because of – of this crazy thing we have going on? Because I don't know, Peter, and it's just… I…"

"Peter, I'm scared."

And then he's breathing again and holding her close, because Olivia has only ever said those words twice – when her family first abandoned her and then, when he was leaving and their entire lives were about to be irrevocably changed. She doesn't cry because she never does, but he can feel a solitary tear run down her face and his neck, and so he draws her closer; thinks that maybe he can keep her in this one moment and keep her safe, like he should have that last night.

That last night… when the boundaries of their friendship were blurred and they became more than just childhood friends; that last night when they both grew up and woke to a cold, empty world; that last night when he fell in love with her and left anyway, leaving her to wake up to a cold bed and four words: _I will be back._

"Don't be, 'Livia. Everything is going to be fine." He assures her gently, just keeping her close. She pulls away after a while, eyes bright with moisture.

"The last time you said that, we slept together and then you left in the morning and I didn't hear from you for months, until you came back for Christmas."

"I came back, see? I will always come back, sweetheart."

"But what if you don't? Peter, before this… you said we didn't have time to be awkward. We do now. I want you to be around, all the time, but I don't know what's going to happen now."

Peter stills and observes her, eyes serious. "I was under the impression that once we settled in, I'd ask you out – even if it is a little backwards, the way we're doing things. But I'd ask you out, Olivia, and eventually we'd move in together, build a family. We could finish what we started the year that I left, sweetheart. I know it wasn't the most… straight-forward move or anything, but I didn't just sleep with you because I was leaving that night. I did it because I'd always wanted to – always wanted _you_."

"Peter, I-"

"You have to let me say this first, 'Livia. Ever since that first night, I knew it was you – it was always you. Why do you think there's never been anyone, Olivia? I tried – I tried so hard to get over you because it wasn't right, wanting my best friend. But I couldn't see anyone else. And then I came back for Christmas and there you were, and everything I'd tried to block out just suddenly came back, and I couldn't control myself."

"And when we woke up the next morning, I felt horrible. I felt like I'd just breezed in and destroyed your life, and you would stop speaking to me now and I would never see you again. But you surprised me, Olivia. You woke up and you smiled and you kissed me, and then you raced me down for breakfast and everything was normal. And then I realized that there was a way I could have you, even if it was just for one night a year. I could have you, Olivia, and for one night every year, I could pretend – that this wasn't wrong, and messed up, and that maybe you felt the same way. And –"

"I do."

"Olivia, hear me out first, I – wait, what?"

"I feel the same way, Peter. That's why it kept happening, every year, and why I never-" But she never gets to finish her sentence because that's when he leans in roughly and crashes his lips to hers, effectively ending their conversation.

Walter was right; they end up using their privacy doing something much better than burning down the house.

* * *

><p>Later that night, when dinner has been served and presents have been opened and his parents are sleeping peacefully, they curl up in front of the fireplace just for the heck of it and savor every moment they can spend together without hiding out in their rooms like a couple of teenagers.<p>

She doesn't know what happens next, only that eventually, they'll have to tell people – Walter, and Elizabeth, and Astrid, and then there's Broyles, who might not approve of partners being together. But for now they're happy, and content, and together, and it's more than she's had in a long time.

Here is the man she has loved forever, who has loved her forever, and has stood by her through everything – teenage silence, odd bouts of depression and freak fires. And more relationships have been based on less, right? Right.

This is their chance, and she's going to take it because it's Peter, and that is reason enough; _he_ is reason enough.

And just before midnight – just before Christmas and the holidays and this little period of in-between safe haven ends – she leans in closer against him and lets his familiar scent and warmth keep her safe. "Merry Christmas, Peter." She sighs softly, and though these are the same words she'd uttered earlier this morning, everything is so different and _better _now that she can't help the light, airy laugh that bubbles out of her.

He smiles, because that's what her laughter does to him, and holds her closer as he always does, because he will never get enough of her; there will never be a time where he's going to have enough of Olivia, but at least now he'll be getting more of her – of them, together.

So he wraps his arms around her and whispers in her ear, and smiles when she does. His words signify the end of a season, but the coming one is full of promise and love, and maybe, just maybe, it's the beginning of a wonderful future.

"Merry Christmas, Olivia."

* * *

><p><strong>THE END<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>~ MERRY CHRISTMAS! ~<strong>

* * *

><p><strong>And that's all for this year, folks. Chapter title is obviously not from any song (that I know of). I hope you've all enjoyed this, and any other of the Christmas Specials you might've checked out. It's been a blast to channel my love for Christmas into all these wonderful fics. <strong>

**Can we do the gift exchange, one last time? Chapter for reviews!And thank you all for the wonderful, wonderful reviews. I'll get back to everyone soon! Maybe after Christmas. For more information on the Christmas Specials and the AU in which this is set, don't forget to check out my homepage and Twitter. **

**Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!**

_**E Salvatore,**_

_**December 2011.**_


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